













cv * 















^' ./%. 







■oK 








.^' 
















^0 <^ "' \^ .. -^ 



.^^•V. 




*^% 










«0 ^V/ -^ 







%.<^ 






























Seagoin' Ballads 

OF A 

SAILOR 

Robert L. Thomas, E2c''R" 

U.S.N.R.F. 




ILLUSTRATED DRAWINGS 

BY 

HARRY KEYS 









Copyright 1921 

by 

Robert L. Thomas 







COLUMBUS, OHIO 
PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR, 1921 



DEC 29 1921 



aaA653298 



<v'- 



Dedicated 

TO 

The Ceaseless Rolling 
OF THE Waves 




SOPT DOWN THOU FAITHFUL SERVANT 
AND KISS THE DECK FOR ME 

YOU MAY BE RULER ON THE LAND 
BUT NOW YOUR OUT AT SEA. 



Clipping from ^^ Oscillator'' 
U. S. N. Radio School 

Harvard University 



New Radio "Ki 



P 



It has been said that there is something subtly 
inspiring about life on the high seas that makes 
a fellow want to scribble verses. Rudyard Kip- 
ling was hit by the "sea bug.'* Last June the 8th 
an embryonic "Kip" graduated from this school 
in the person of Robert L. Thomas, E(R)2c. 

Thomas is with the Armed Guard detail out 
of New York; and while off watch on his long 
trips across the pond, he has been dashing off 
verses that admirably reflect his "sea moods." 
His imagery is excellent and with a little more 
practice in smooth-running metre he will very 
likely make a name for himself. Below we are 
publishing one of his verses : 

"THE DREAM OF A WIRELESS OP" 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

A Tale of a Sailor In France 11 

In an ol' stone house of fortune. 
The Followers of the Sea 13 

Somehow a feelin's a-callin' me. 
Our Navy 15 

Back in the luring Navy. 
In the Heart of the Storm 17 

With a heave and a pitch she plows the foam. 
"Slim" (Our Gun Pointer) 18 

We pulled in port with an empty poke. 
When We Return 20 

I have roamed and sought and I've seen it. 
Nat Low In a Visit To Hades (Gunner's Mate) 22 

Why certainly, Satan, here I am. 
Consumptive Jim 25 

Well, we had a company of forty-two. 
Our Quarters In Hasting Hall 27 

We were in the hall named Hasting's. 
Slackers 29 

Did you ever hear the question. 
Thanks, Mary 31 

Of all the gifts I have received. 
The Dream of a Wireless Op 33 

Four o'clock and I went on watch. 
Again of Michigan 35 

There's a little ol' town in Michigan. 
A Snuff_, a Dream, and Slim Suven (Ship's Dreamer and 

Barber) 37 

*T'm the guy from Alberta." 
Where Was Robert When the Sub Popped Up? 41 

We were hittin' along at a lively gait. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

A Personal Seance 43 

Into the land of reality. 
"Chow" In the Galley 45 

When your stomach calls with a grinding pain. 
In the Space of Silence 47 

Twas in the space of silence. 
In the Land of Yesterday (After the Armistice) 49 

Back in the Land of Yesterday. 
Back In the Glory Hole 51 

There's a spot on ship called Glory Hole. 
A Sailor's Dream of a Girl Away 54 

There's a girl that lives in Ohio. 
The Mountain of Fun 56 

I built me a mountain all laden with gold. 
The Voice In the Little Pink Rose 57 

I sat in my room at twilight. 
My Way of Learning 59 

Some poets write for Glory. 
In the Shades of Haunted Valley 61 

One thousand miles from a living soul. 
The Blue Bird's Nest 63 

I started in the early spring. 
Parting Plea To a Pal 65 

Will and Testament. 



10 



A TALE OF A SAILOR IN FRANCE 



IN an ol' stone house of fortune, 
By a shady babbhng brook, 
A sailor from the Western World 
Sat with a downcast look. 

He ordered some wine quite thoughtless 
And paused as he raised the glass 

For in it were shadows of sweetness 
And the touch of a keen French lass. 

He turned his head with a beckoning smile, 

As if to say, "You're mine." 
No sooner done than by his side 

There sat this maid divine. 

Now dreams are made and broken 

And hearts set afire by chance. 
So foreign love unspoken 

Burned hot from one sweet glance. 

Time dwindled fast, and not in vain 

He stole to her chateau 
And thru French vale and sunlit plain 

They darted to and fro. 

He'd stop on sunny peaks and hills 
And gaze at the beauty of France ; 

His arms held fast the girl he loved ; 
They kissed at every chance. 



11 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 



The look in her eyes was soothing, 
And passion nigh took his breath ; 

The sHghtest touch of her Httle hand 
Was egging his soul to death. 

Of a sudden one day she turned and fled; 

At a distance he saw her pass, 
And boys, I heard him crying, 

*'My God, but I love that lass." 

So back to the cafe he wandered 

To finish his glass of wine. 
And there she sat upon the lap 

Of another pal of mine. 

These are the facts as told to me 

As a truth, I'm bound to swear. 
For I spent a month in Bordeaux, 

And it happened while I was there. 



12 



THE FOLLOWERS OF THE SEA 



SOMEHOW a feelin' 's a-callin' me 
When I land on Mother Earth, 
To jump a gig, a barge, or float 
And once more hit the surf. 

It can't be called a sporty life ; 

No music, women or wine; 
But it holds a grip hard to your soul 

And whispers, "J^^k, you're mine." 

The old sea-hounds are luring; 

I ache to see their grin ; 
A sturdy gang with human blood 

Where kindness flows within. 

No tommy-rot nor silly smiles 

Infest their salty faces; 
The music of their heavy voice 

Sounds best of human races. 

Their eye-sight's keen and better still, 

Response which comes so quick; 
No matter how you weigh these men, 

You'll find them mighty slick. 

Take your old society gang 

Where life is far from true, 
Where a million beans weigh more than brains 

To bring the crowd to you. 



13 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 

Out here, my friend, stands character; 

The fearless rule our gang. 
And many things are done, you bet, 

With a word of salty slang. 

When you see a sailor on the land, 

His brains seem just a blot, 
But laugh at him out on the sea, 

He'll pin you to the spot. 

When daylight fades and darkness comes 

Our hearts begin to shine. 
As the old sea-hounds turn them to wit 

With tales that cool one's spine. 

To you who sit in rocking chairs 

And smile at ways of the sea, 
You're living only one-half of life, 

Come out, (and sail with me). 



OUR NAVY 



BACK in the luring Navy, 
Back to the place called home, 
Back where a single battle 
And a Torp can do 'er alone. 

Oh when I think of the comforts 
And the protection of Uncle Sam. 

Then is the time I enjoy it; 
I'm proud I'm a sailor man. 

Chickens are cooped with caution 
And a dog is tied to a tree, 

But the sailor lad has the universe 
And the world before him to see. 

Maybe you'll hit a sunny clime 
And may be a field of snow. 

But what's the odds if every time 
You're movin' and someplace to go. 

There is always a place not warring 
And maidens whose hearts are free; 

These are the things that lure you 
And hold you fast to the sea. 

Stay you old civilians 

In the dress of a year ago 

And you'll be sorry when you hear 

Of the places where we go. 



15 



IN THE HEART OF THE STORM 



iVi iSVica S'hiiSK! 




IN THE HEART OF THE STORM 



WITH a heave and a pitch she plows the foam 
With never a groan nor a sigh, 
But a belching crew sick to the bone 
And waitin' only to die. 

The old winds howl and the big waves crash 

And the salt spray blinds your eye ; 
You lie in your bunk held fast by a lash 

Awaitin' the storm to go by. 

The f eelin's Hell and hard to explain ; 

You waft as a bubble of air ; 
You look at the chow in a sickening way, 

Desiring to clear from there. 

Your head at once turns to a whirl ; 

You're ridin' a merry-go-round, 
And the stomach pitches with every twirl, 

And the food's a Jonah to down. 

The last resort is a wish to die, 

And you crave for the end to come 
As you lie there stretched in agony 

With feelin's of woe so dumb. 

Perhaps you have seen some misery 

I thought that I had myself, 
But I learned a different angle 

On the salt sea's sickly shelf. 



"SLIM" 
(our gun pointer) 



w 



E pulled in port with an empty poke ; 

Our stomachs were gnawing with pain, 
So we shuffled the wits of our salty gang 

To find a prosperous brain. 

The honor fell to a big tall lad, 
Whose nick-name was "Seldom Slim" ; 

So we trusted to luck if any struck 
For the shackles would come to him. 

Now Slim was quiet and sly as Hell, 
And he promised a liberal sum ; 

He told us to wait at a wayside gate 
And he'd return with the "mun". 

Now the method that Slim concocted there, 

Is gentle without any doubt. 
And to keep the secret in our own gang, 

I shall leave the particulars out. 

He played the game in a gentleman's way 
Known as the old "Grip Case", 

A sort of a psychic turn about 
Where they look you in the face. 



18 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 



He carried back to this wayside gate 
The scrap-iron we all admire 

And parted it fair upon the square 
According to our desire. 

"And now," says Slim, "it's easy to trim 
Most any man you may meet, 

But I'm honest enuf, tho ever so tough, 
To give each man a receipt. 



19 



WHEN WE RETURN 



Ihave roamed and sought and I've seen it; 
I have landed all over the globe; 
I have craved what I saw and I got it, 
And now O step out of the robe. 

I have been where life is all joyous, 
And where losses outbalanced my gains ; 

I have talked with the very best women 
And I've followed the wildest of janes. 

I have travelled some wild nights of fury 

And some in a moon serene ; 
I have done what would quite shock a jury 

And again I have been very clean. 

I have fought where the fights were the hottest; 

I have talked with a peaceful tongue ; 
I have gone thru Hell with the rottenest 

And laughed at the treacherous rum. 

I have walked thru the houses of shame 
And I've sat in the House of my God; 

I have ruined perhaps many a name 
And I've owned with a truth telling nod. 

I have seen all the lights that burn red oil 
And I've been in the clear sunshine ; 

I've tricked and delved with many a goil 
And I've acted the scene of refine. 



20 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 

I've hit all the bar-rooms where evil is high 

And I've sat where the soive sody-pop; 
I have played all the games from low to high 

And I've blinded my eye to the markers dot. 

There are things I escaped in the strife 

I hope, my good friend, it is true ; 
For now I come back for a gentleman's life, 

I leave what I missed for you. 



21 



NAT LOW IN A VISIT TO HADES 
(gunner's mate) 



WHY certainly, Satan, here I am, 
I came for a little chat; 
I've argued everyone on board 
And put them on the mat. 

The last discussion I was in 

Was all concerning beer. 
But I was changed religiously 

By a bunk mate very near. 

The bunk mate I have reference to, 

Now, Satan, this is right, 
Protests that morals of every man 

Are lost when he is tight. 

I can't exactly see that way; 

I may be strange no doubt, 
But where would all clear thinking go 

If booze was left without. 

IVe read all books in Kingdom Come ; 

I read them every day. 
And novels such as I absorb, 

Amuse in every way. 



22 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 

Satan, I feel mean towards you, 

For you let me win one day 
And then take all the cash I have 

The next time that I play. 

I must be on to the powder room ; 

I've temperatures to take today, 
But I'll be back in a day or two 

When again I feel this day. 

Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell 

That I'm still eating soup 
And watching the worms called macaron 

That chill me to my boots. 



23 



CONSUMPTIVE JIM 




CONSUMPTIVE JIM 



WELL we had a company of forty-two 
And the best drilled on the ground, 
So we took the prize before the eyes 
Of our dear friend, Captain Brown. 

Consumptive Jim had joined the Blue 

And landed in our quarters; 
He was a sort of a funny chap 

When he had a couple snorters. 

Well lights blew out at ten o'clock 
And the gang was hungry for sleep, 

When who would slip in but dirty Jim 
With a jag and muddy feet. 

He'd light the light with his gin breath 

And dance a jig or two ; 
Then thru the hall would ring a call 

Of a *chief we loved so true. 

Our room was number twenty-four 
Which the chief wrote on his pad. 

And he signed all up for real hard work 
Except this snorted lad. 

Well that 'aint all our books relate 
Of our friend, Consumptive Jim, 

For he used to file our sea bags thru 
When none of us boys were in. 



25 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 

He'd steal our clothes and sell 'em back 

And spend the dough at night 
Then hit the gang for a payday loan 

And end up gettin' tight. 

We'd pin our eyes when chow time came 

And watch our piece of pie 
For Consumptive Jim would make a raid 

Without a catching eye. 

Consumptive Jim has passed away, 

I suppose that all is well; 
He'll trick old Satan some hot day 

By walkin' away with Hell. 



* Chief was "Daddy Long Legs" — Officer in Charge of 
Quarters. 



26 



OUR QUARTERS IN HASTING HALL 



WE were in the hall named Hasting's, 
Not exactly called a home 
But we quartered there with bag and clothes 
And merely a bed alone. 

The guy in the end, the master-of-arms 

Whose hair was turning gray, 
Had a hard-boiled tongue in an ugly face 

And a damn peculiar way. 

Well he'd make his rounds at ten o'clock 
And report in his log, "Secure" ; 

He would then go back to his greasy bunk, 
A regular filthy sewer. 

When morning came and sun burst out, 

Our friend we loved so well 
Would give one shout that meant "All out !" 

Now wasn't it truly Hell. 

Did you ever wake up in the early morn 
When you've spent a strenuous night. 

And you want to slip back to sleep again 
And sleep with all your might ? 

If you don't hit the deck with a wicked leg 

Then on report you go, 
And you get a chance to clean around 

For maybe a week or so. 



27 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 



Well you bounce from bed like a roaring gun 
And you grab a swob and a broom ; 

You sweep and swop with all your might 
To have a real neat room. 



Don't kid me, boys, or worry your brains 
When the gray-haired guy pops in ; 

It's "Clean your room, you lazy fools ; 
It's the dirtiest I've been 



m. 



Such life to some would go against 
The very meat and bones, 

But we pass it by just laughingly 
And blame it on to Jones. 



You soon learn the art of lying 
And the wisdom of dodging work 

For the one who gets by above the rest 
Is the one who knows to shirk. 



SLACKERS 

DID you ever hear the question 
Of how to do your part 
Discussed in all the circles 
Where rests the coward heart ? 



To dwell upon this question 

Of the "patriotic guy": 
You never see a service man 

A tryin' to sneak by. 

Of course his face will color 

When the stars and stripes unfurl ; 

But hear this slacker-fellar 
'Splainin' bravery to his girl : 

"Why certainly, Uncle Sam is right" 
The coward-man blurts out, 

"Just think what all of us can do! 
I feel that I could shout." 



Oh those fancy little dress balls 
Where the fine Dukes sit within 

And brag of all their courage 
And how "we're bound to win". 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 

You bet we'll win ! We know it, 
And we'll fight 'er to the end 
But it won't be done by talking 
Nor the courage that you send. 



Now if you want to win this war 

And set the nations free, 
Pack up your duds and say goodbye, 

Take the land or take the sea. 



THANKS, MARY 



OF all the gifts I have received 
That give joy every minute 
None else surpassed the little box 
With home-made candy in it. 

Perhaps the girl who sent it o'er 
Had just a patriotic mind 

And thought to cheer some sailor lad 
Whose memories are behind. 

To me it was quite different ; 

It warmed my very heart; 
I never shall forget the lass 

Who more than did her part. 

So, thanks to you, kind Mary, 
May your life be filled with joy; 

Your kindness is recorded deep 
In the heart of a sailor boy. 



31 



THE DREAM OF A WIRELESS OP 




THE DREAM OF A WIRELESS OP 



FOUR o'clock and I went on watch, 
The day was still in mourning, 
Except in the East where a speckled ray 
Was a hint of daylight warning. 

Never a sound was heard outside, 

Not even a morning breeze; 
This silence stuck to my very bones 

And weakness shook my knees. 

A spurt, a jump, I felt afire ; 

A wrench and one sad groan, 
Then with my pen and writing pad 

I took this from the phone. 

"One million men were killed today 
And the prize of a million guns; 

Peace reigns again upon the earth; 
We've slaughtered all the Huns." 

I snatched these words out one by one 

Until the message stopped; 
Bang, — out the door I made one dash 

And on the bridge I popped. 

''Behold! my friends, I have some news; 

A new world came tonight; 
The beast of Hell has closed his eyes 

And we have won the Fight." 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 



The old big gong on upper mast 
Was turned to a liberty bell, 

And the cargo decks, the long trod decks 
Were filled with a human swell. 

Upon the upper bridge I stood 

With this wireless note in my hand, 

Reading it over aloud and aloud 
To the cheers of our happy band. 

*'Wake up ! What the Hell, my son ? 

Are you going to sleep all day ? 
The man on watch should be relieved. 

Get up ! — be on your way." 



AGAIN OF MICHIGAN 



THERE'S a little ol' town in Michigan, 
A great many miles away 
That often brings me memories 
While I'm sailing day by day. 



I can picture the verdant woodlands 
And the soothing air so dear, 

Filled with the chirps of birdies 
Whose notes are sweet and clear. 



I pause when I think of the valleys 
And the hills that lovers adore. 

Extending their winding pathways 
To the heart of a maid in the door. 



There bathed in smiles she 'waits me, 
Her heart like the shinin' gold, 

And her lips in loving whisper say, 
"You are welcome to my threshold.' 



She's in for any regular treat 

Whether hunting or camping out, 

Fishing or wading a rapid stream 
For the sight of a speckled trout. 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 

Could life ask better contentment 

Or a kindred pal more true, 
And yet I am missing all this dream, 

Clinched in the hands of the Blue. 

But I'm coming back from the Navy 

With a mind and heart as of yore, 
And I'm going straight to the spans again, 

To the smile I saw at the door. 



36 



A SNUFF, A DREAM, AND SLIM SUVEN 
(ship's dreamer and barber) 



I'M the guy from Alberta, 
A grafter, so they say. 
But any business I start in, 
I always make it pay. 

'Tm sought by J. P. Morgan, 
His famous steeds need care; 

I know my help is needed, 
But why waste time out there? 

"I've got a better project. 

Some land deals in the West ; 

I'll work it for a year or two. 
And then I'll quit and rest. 

"Just hold your tongue a minute; 

ril take a snuff or two ; 
It works quite well with business ; 

Makes my proposals true." 

INTERLUDE — SNUFFING FREELY 

"I'll make some forty thousand 

In at least a year or two, 
If I have to buy the Brooklyn Bridge 

And charge for walking thru. 



37 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 



"But still I see another 

That's worthy of your rate, 

The Captain wants my service 
Can start as Boatswain's Mate. 

*T have some land in Alberta 
That's worth a fortune now; 

I know it seems quite funny 
But I will tell you how. 

'T'll plot this land in city lots 
And call the Rubes around. 

I'll sell 'em by the thousand 
And start a regular town. 

*T'll summon all my clients 

And say, 'Now, look here, men. 

We'll name this town in honor 
Of our prosperous Slim Suven.' 

*T'll marry into fortune, boys, 
And buy a great big yacht ; 

I'll spend my time in traveling; 
Oh, could this life but stop." 

MELTED SNOW 

"Oh, goodness gracious, where's my phial? 

And what's that standing there? 
Well, I'll be damned, I've swung around 

In this ol' barber chair." 



38 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 

Boom, boom, boom, boom, madly goes 

The song I love to hear, 
And in it rests those sneaky spooks 

That make me feel so queer. 



3» 



WHERE WAS ROBERT WHEN THE SUB POPPED UP? 




WHERE WAS ROBERT WHEN THE SUB 
POPPED UP? 



WE were hittin' along at a lively gait, 
And the waves were washin' our deck; 
A happy crew was singin' songs 
Till the Watchman showed his neck. 



Well the bells before were tapping eight, 
A signal for danger, they say; 

I heard the beastly, bloomin' things ; 
In fact, — I was on my way. 

I don't like to tell just where I went, 
Of course, — I do not know, 

But the speed that I was hittin' up 
Could hardly be called ''slow". 

I wasn't the only guy on the ship 
That lost himself that morn; 

In fact, the whole damned crew blew up 
In dreams of Gabriel's Horn. 



Well anyhow the sub popped up 

Just fifty feet from stern; 
The men on watch were just relieved, 

And no one knew whose turn. 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 

The boat was small, but seemed to me 

A good size quarter track; 
And it appeared, perhaps I'm wrong, 

Each man was comin' back. 

I've tried to think just where I was, 

And damned if I can tell. 
But the smoke I left behind me, boys. 

Went by too fast to smell. 

It's nice to read in the papers 

When you're sittin' home in a chair 
Of the noble bravery of our boys ; — 

But try your talk out there. 



42 



A PERSONAL SEANCE 



INTO the land of reality 
Where Hfe drips on so free; 
Into the mist of consciousness, 
Place me, and let me be. 

Into the land of Self Control 
Where passions stand outside ; 

Into the heart of your very soul 
And only you to confide. 

Into the land of Confidence, 
Ambition — stirred alone, 

Listening not to gossip's rot 
Of patterns already sown. 

Not in the land of Sirens; 

Oh 1 — to a graceful smile. 
It's an open path to destruction 
And easy to walk its mile. 

Stop at the "J" i^ Jealousy, 
The bane of all mankind; 

It merely sets gray cells back, 
And Fortune falls behind. 

Follow the simple stimulus 
And answer in that way. 

Here you are understood by all, 
No matter what you say. 



43 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 



Twisting thought and arguing 

Gains but very Httle; 
It simply strengthens mystery, 

Makes life a harder riddle. 

With soul awake and heart aglow 
I now feel quite at ease; 

Tm sure I've cleared my dusty mind 
Of error's harmful breeze. 



"CHOW" IN THE GALLEY 



WHEN your stomach calls with a grinding pain 
That is answered by bacon and beans, 
Then you know the feelin' that's graspin' you 
And all of the misery it means 

The place where we eat is called by some 

The galley or "old chow hall" ; 
Just room enough for our twenty men ; 

My gracious, but it is small. 

The tables are fine for they're made of pine 

And the seats are nailed to the side; 
A rough hewn rim most lacking of trim 

Is fixed so the food won't slide. 

Old china-ware that is mostly square 

And the tea-cups composed of tin, 
Is merely a thought how cleverly wrought 

Was the hardware used within. 

With all of these tools, which we dearly love, 

We sit and we dine like kings ; 
And I'm afraid when the peace time comes 

We'll all be hating the fancier things. 

Of course there are gluttons among all men 

Who take the joy out of life 
And make things hard that should be at ease, 

And seldom thev suffer the strife. 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 



When under way at a great big meal 
And dessert is measured by squares, 

These hounds of Hell, who are not real men, 
Steal over and double their shares. 

It's a circus to watch when things are laid out 
As they pass from one plate to another; 

But you will agree that out on the sea 
Each should treat every mate as a brother. 

Through all of this growl and every-day howl, 
There are half of us laughing with fun, 

For we think of the time of crossing the Rhine 
And blowing Hell out of the Hun. 



46 



IN THE SPACE OF SILENCE 



''T^WAS in the space of silence 
A A spot I call my own; 

It doesn't sell by lots, my pal, 
Nor bud the seed that's sown. 

It's far from all the frivolous life, 

Where dancing is unknown 
Or pretty maids dressed up in white 

Give pause to where you're goin'. 

I speak of girls as a judgment day, 
Perhaps they're such to the race. 

Yet I confess to ignorance, friend, 
They're a mystery in this place. 

The chirping bird which once I heard, 

A thousand years or two, 
Drifts by my mind as phantom kind 

Or rolls of misty blue. 

The street lights on the corner square 
Burn dim the whole night long, 

And Mother Clay has much to say 
To one who hears her song. 

The roses in their bower of charm 

Are merely echoes of red; 
But still their scent as life is spent 

Enshrouds our fearful dead. 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 

Amused ! — ah-ha, it makes me smile ; 

Our show's a lifeless affair, 
And yet our hearts ring out with joy 

At a whisper of Zephyrous air. 

The moon, our god, our only friend, 

Reflects what you call clay ; 
In this we see with a mariner's eye, 

Your world as it is today. 

Perhaps the psychic speaks of sex 

And of love of a different kind 
And the joy that man obtains from it, 

We see, and let we are blind. 

Well in this space of silence 

Our hearts beat true as gold, 
And the Hfe we live is far beyond 

Your kind or what you're told. 

So let me stay on the dear old sea 

Where my mind is fresh as air, 
Where I talk to the setting sun and moon 

From my rocking, rolling chair 



48 



IN THE LAND OF YESTERDAY 
(after the armistice) 



BACK in the Land of Yesterday; 
Back in the peaceful town, 
Where I passed my days of childhood play 
And knew not War's stern frown. 



I don't want to read your history 
Where the pages are filled with war; 

I want to read of romancy things, 
The same as I did before. 



I've had my fill of fighting 
And ducking the submarine; 

It's fine to act as a gallant knight; 
More pleasant, if only a dream. 



There may be lovers of war games; 

They appeal to a class of men; 
But I'm the sort of a peaceful chap 

That'll leave the fightin' to them. 

Perhaps it's lovely to ride the sea 

When the stars and moon shine high; 

But the feeling's keener, yes by far 
When I'm sittin' home on the Dry. 



49 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 



I'll miss the gang, no doubt of that 
And the quarrels we flung around, 

But none the less the very best 
Is a foot on my home ground. 

I'm free, my boys, to roam about 
In the fields and woodlands of yore; 

Back to the good ol' swimmin' hole. 
There's where I want my war. 



50 



BACK IN THE GLORY HOLE 



THERE'S a spot on ship called Glory Hole 
Of which few people hear ; 
The things which give the place its name 
Are very keen and dear. 

I speak of "dear" as a quantity 

And not of the sweetheart kind, 
For once you strike this lively hole 

You'll find yourself behind. 

When evening shadows gently creep 

To steal away the light, 
You need but look in this one nook 

To see a curious sight. 

It's well to say at the very start 

That a man's a man down there, 
For all he needs to join the gang 

Is a rich and liberal fare. 



It's "Craps", my friend, I'm talking of, 

The sailors' only game. 
And yet the sport that comes from it 

Stands high in seaman's fame. 

It's roll those bones down the board 
And snap your fingers loud; 

If you can do this little trick 
You're ready for the crowd. 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 

*'Sh-bang, by gum, it's little Joe; 

Here's a five for a double two. 
What? — Ten she won't come up, my friend, 

I'll take the bet with you." 

"Ah ! — Little Joe, don't fail me now ; 

There's money on the floor ; 
I know the dice are cut that way; 

I've seen your face before." 

"Haw ! — there you are, stop 'em" 

And just about to fade 
As four and three spilled the beans. 

And the dice were shoved to Abe. 

Now Abe, a Jew, the naturalist 

Clutched hard the wicked bones, 
And as he threw them down the deck 

The crowd was filled with moans. 

He doubled up with every pass 

And made room for a stroke, 
With eager eyes he looked them o'er 

And murmured, "Boys, I'm broke." 

It's hot all right to start in with. 
But the crowd soon dwindles down 

To two or three keen sailor lads 
Known as the "Winning Hound". 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 

This is only an inkling 

Of the excitement we have at sea. 
And yet some curse a sailor's life, 

But it's fast enough for me. 



53 



A SAILOR'S DREAM OF A GIRL AWAY 



THERE'S a girl that lives in Ohio, 
The state that I love best ; 
And there my mind does wander oft 
At night when I go to rest. 



A little dream comes creeping in 
Painting a pretty maid, 

With speaking eyes so easy 
And a heart, oh, quite afraid. 



Ah ! — those dreams, such pretty dreams, 

Could life in fact replace 
And fill those fleeting images 

With blood and smiling face. 

She's a gal with fair complexion 
And eyes, . . . that set me wild, 

Sort of . . . speaking truth and honesty, 
Sympathetic, like a child. 



She can talk so smooth and easy; 

Makes you think she's all for you, 
While perhaps you're only floating 

On deceptions heavenly blue. 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 

Well — I'll give it to you, Avalyn ; 

You can make or burst the dream, 
But you can't make me forget you; 

I have pictured you "A QUEEN." 

So, here's to health to Avalyn — 

May her life be filled with joy — 
But halter up that genius free 

To any other boy. 



55 



THE MOUNTAIN OF FUN 



1 BUILT me a mountain all laden with gold 
With a sweet little maiden wrapped up in a fold ; 
I pictured her there as the "Queen of Truth," 
And in emblem of love I titled her "Ruth." 

I looked at this mountain from day to day, 
And deep in my soul I could hear it say, 
"My treasures are hidden, one look will disclose 
The bright shining heart of an opening rose. 

I grabbed at this hint and then starting on 
I walked all the night until coming of dawn ; 
I reached the tall peak, my journey well done 
And there I stood bathed in the rays of the Sun. 

I asked for this love so earnest and true 
Whose echoes had whispered and thrilled me through, 
And a voice came to me far away down below : 
"You have climbed to the limit ; no farther you go." 

So down the mountain I whistled and run 
Till I got to the foot of this Mountain of Fun. 
I pictured her now as the Mount of Desire, 
A measly old hill, and the Queen, a Vampire. 



56 



THE VOICE IN THE LITTLE PINK ROSE 



I SAT in my room at twilight, 
In a doleful, glooomy way, 
Reflecting my mood by mirror 
As phantoms light and gay. 

Dismal and dull I idled away 
Hours so precious and dear; 

Lacking the living stimulus 
To change my mood so queer. 

My eye fell on the rising moon, 

Its rays so clean and free. 
And soon my soul was drifting 

Far out across the lea. 

An unseen spot in the woodland, 

Ignored by passers-by 
Suddenly gleamed with brightness 

Before my searching eye. 

Was it a little Linnet? 

Or a lazy brook? — Who knows? 
Or perhaps it was an echo 

Of a little smiling rose. 

Ah! — 'twas a Rose of Sunshine 

Which blushed at a streamlet's brink. 

Suffusing its tender bosom 
With colors of tinted pink. 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 



Smiling and singing, — its melody 
Perfumed with echoes sweet; 

And when its notes had thrilled out 
It closed itself so neat. 

Why was my heart throbbing 
And gasping as if for breath ? 

Because this little fairy 

Drove gloomy moods to death. 



MY WAY OF LEARNING 



SOME poets write for glory, 
And some for pleasure alone ; 
Some write for merely a living, 
Exchanging their work for a loan. 



There are poems with different meanings, 

But strictly between us two, 
The contents are usually leaning 

On the facts that are really true. 



To write a verse of any kind 
Requires your heart and soul 

And character displays itself, 
If you analyze the scroll. 



There often lie misjudgments, 
And people are led astray 

By ignoring many writings 
And the simple things we say. 



I can read a line of Hawthorne 
Or a verse of Allan Poe 

And tell you pretty nearly 
The topic facts they know. 



59 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 

A Poet who writes of Nature, 

You will find him by a stream 
Enjoying all the beauties, 

And living in his dream. 



So take this little logic tip 
In studying nature's game 

You'll usually peg your neighbor 
In appliance to the same. 



60 



IN THE SHADES OF HAUNTED VALLEY 



ONE thousand miles from a living soul 
Or even a sign of breath 
Is a land that forms no traveler's goal 
For fear of the sexual death. 

Into this dark, green valley 

I stumbled and plodded my way, 

Fleeing from childhood's follies 
Where love first tends to play. 

Guarding my steps so thoughtfully 
And thinking at every stride, 

I ducked behind the huge white stones 
For memory wanted to hide. 

On and on I walked with myself, 

Chatting and talking aloud. 
Shunning the creeping jeers of thought 

That came like a lifeless crowd. 

Slowly I crept to the canyon's right 
In the midst of a hundred trees. 

Partly to hide my living soul 
And to steady my weakening knees. 

There sitting by a winding stream 
Whose waters were never seen 

I stooped and filled my little hat 
To quench this childish dream. 



61 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 

Over a rise in this brooklet 

The nose of a slender canoe 
Was slowly wagging its presence 

To my lonely rendezvous. 

Into this floating bark I jumped, 

Lured by two moonish eyes 
And pulled again with all my might 

To the land of the unwise. 

Had I not sworn to wrench myself 
From lures of the feminine heart 

I could have drifted easily 

Down through this shadowed part. 

But here was the same old stumble 

That sillied my mind before, 
And again I drifted swiftly 

To those childish dreams of yore. 

Now where can I go to free myself 
Of the bonds which enslave a man ? 

Can I put them bodily out of life 
And live in my own little van? 



THE BLUE BIRD^S NEST 



1 STARTED in the early spring 
Each morn with the coming sun 
To search the world for a singing mate 
In a plan all neatly spun. 

I roamed far into the woodlands 
And I waded the quiet brooks ; 

I listened for songs of cheerfulness 
In dim enchanted nooks. 

Into the land of the flowers 

And the scent of the clover bloom 

Perfumed by gentle showers 
And kissed by the lovers' moon. 

Ah ! — at a distant echo 

Comes a sympathetic strain, 

Striking its chords in harmony 
With the music in my brain. 

True as it were we came in sight 
And chirped our lullaby song 

Telling each other with all our might 
That love was nothing wrong. 

So late into the moony hours 
We'd talk, we'd chirp and roam 

Searching the land together 
In hope of finding a home. 



63 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 

A home we found in the highlands 

Where everything was dry ; 
And we started our task of building 

With the stalks of wheat and rye. 

Our house was soon completed 

And four little eggs of blue 
Sheltered four little birdies, 

Fluttering with life anew. 

Behold ! — in the dark a stranger 

Came stealing his way at night 
Disturbing nothing along his path 

Until we came in his sight. 

His hands were cold and icy 
And he placed them in the nest ; 

If you know this evil omen, 
I need not tell the rest. 

But anyhow I flew away 

And old revenge regained my mind; 
And now those little echoes 

Shall always find me blind. 



A PARTING PLEA FOR A PAL TO 
ACCOMPANY YOU 

(in due naval form) 
(With apologies to Lunclsbury.) 

Radio School, Camp Perry, 

Great Lakes, 111., 
January 9, 1918. 

From: Robert L. Thomas, E3c"R', USNRF. 
To: Edward Joseph Dwyer, Y2c, USNRF. 

Subject: Last Will and Testament of Brother Thomas. 

Item I 

1 . I leave to you all of the beautiful surroundings 
of Great Lakes, which said environment, to me, 
imposes stillness, nothingness and quietude. 

Iteifi 2 

2. I leave to you the dominion and prudence to 
clutch all that may in the least way be beneficial 
to you. 

Item J 

3 . I leave to you the invigorating lake breezes and 
the chirping robins that characterize the shores 
of Lake Michigan in the early spring. May 
"Your" satisfaction of the above be delectable. 



65 



SEAGOIN' BALLADS OF A SAILOR 

Item 4 

4. I leave to you the patience, tolerance and the 
refraining of temper to handle the cunning, 
crafty and annoying gobs, that open their 
mouths to learn to talk. 

Item 5 

5. I leave to you the hope and success of securing 
a permanent domicile and that your time of stay 
will be ample enough to erect a shelf and drive 
a nail. All of which you understand, Dwyer. 

Item 6 

6. I leave to you my absence, good will and a 
hearty desire that you will find time enough to 
leave your most beautiful home town of Chi- 
cago, to join your old pal in Cambridge, Mass. 
— You know car-fare is cheap for us. 

Itefw y 

7. To you, the beneficiary, I waive all trials and 
concessions of others, who through illegal 
means, may try to deprive you of this will and 
testament. May your ideas of soft jobs and of 
happiness pour in torrents upon your threshold. 

With allowances to my shipmates, I am, 
BuNKY Thomas. 



»^ .^* -^c- '>^ 




•0' , 









40^ 



r^^. ^WB^: ^^^ %, ""oWMW: ^.^'-^^ "'•^li^.*' «.^^'^ 







■^^r 





S^r 
























5.^*%. - 







5^ ^ 




r-\/ 









, . •/ ^^^^\ %^(P/ .^^^'^^^ 



-0^ 




, .^""^t. ' 





.Ho^ 



'oV 
















Ho^ 









-^9^ 














•fi'- 










